"1945"

For a host of reasons, some movies grow stronger with time, while others fade into relics, capturing a moment in history that seems irrelevant, even quaint today. The sheer impact and staying power of Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” (1946) reflects both a gifted director at the peak of his talents, and a script dealing in universal truths that always resonate with thinking, feeling audiences.

With the holidays approaching, my thoughts turn to parties, and the uptick in food and alcohol consumption that goes with the season. I’m girding myself for the onslaught. Drinking can be treacherous for many people, but I’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy it over the years. Though technically a depressant, booze usually cheers me up and fortifies me, particularly when confronting a room full of relative strangers.

Film scholars may differ on the top Bogart-Bacall outing, but for me it’s their second film, “The Big Sleep” (1946), directed by the inimitable Howard Hawks. It is, first and foremost, the quintessential private eye picture, along with the earlier Bogart classic, “The Maltese Falcon” (1941). The film succeeds in spite of the fact that its dense, twisty plot leaves most viewers slightly bewildered at the closing credits.

With Netflix increasingly focused on promoting their robust lineup of original programming, I find myself turning more and more to Amazon Prime for great older titles, often referred to as “classics.”

Looking back ten years to 2008, the current dynamics of the movie business were already well established, with Hollywood generating most of their revenues from so-called “tentpole” releases, usually superhero or fantasy franchises. Of course, broad distribution and heavy promotional support help drive box office results for these types of movies.

A while back, we did a piece isolating some of the best, most biting dialogue from the world of film noir, that dark, often hidden underbelly of society portrayed in movies from the forties and fifties where no one can be trusted and everyone talks wise.

I’ve always loved Italy and most all things Italian: the country, the language, the food, and most of all, the people.  I’ve always perceived the Italian national character as refreshingly open, romantic and passionate, with all human contradictions and frailties laid right out in the open. To me the Italians seem fabulously, enviably, alive.

Technology aside, timeless films remind us that that the pressures and vicissitudes of the workplace and the vagaries of office politics have been around pretty much forever (unlike the cell phone).